


Sexy Ambush

by AngeDeLumiere



Series: Ambushed to the Altar [1]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-18 14:50:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2352251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeDeLumiere/pseuds/AngeDeLumiere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ride in an elevator leads to a surprising admission from Akihito.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Confession

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing. I much prefer Yamane-sensei's work to anything I could ever come up with!

Shit, he was exhausted. Akihito pushed his sopping wet hair out of his eyes as he trekked through the lobby of Asami’s apartment building. His entire body ached, his joints were stiff and he was pretty sure that the crick in his neck would never straighten out. The photographer had spent three hours crouching beneath cargo nets and fishing gear, waiting for the arms deal to finish up. Nomoji Hayate was Japan’s transport minister, and the old gas bag was longwinded. What would have taken Asami minutes to negotiate took him three hours.

Akhito’s legs went numb half way through. That made running when some goons heard the click of his camera’s shutter even harder. Of course Akihito had gotten away; it would be a cold day in hell before someone other than Asami threw him in the trunk of a limo. 

“Takaba-san,” the concierge smiled politely and nodded as the photographer walked by. He was always polite when Akihito picked up the mail, and never once did he call him ‘Asami-san’. Now, Akihito found himself wishing that he remembered the man’s name, if just so he could have an ally is Asami’s world. 

“Good evening,” Akihito could barely manage to nod his head. All he could think about was the long, hot bath he was going to take. He might even steal Asami’s rubber ducky. 

He only had to wait a moment for the elevator to open. It was just after ten o’clock, so most of the rich tenants had already come home. Sagging against the wall, he contemplated what he was going to make for diner. He had not been to the store in a few days, sot he kitchen was looking a little sparse. Maybe he should call Asa––

“Hold the elevator!” 

Reflexively, Akihito put his hand on the trembling metal door, and immediately wished he had not. He hated sharing the lift with the vapid socialites, who sneered at his torn jeans and muttered about the place going to the dogs. 

“Thanks,” huffed a pregnant woman as she waddled into the lift. She was carrying three reusable grocery bags, as well a paper one. “I didn’t think I would make it if I had to wait for the next one.”

“No problem,” he instantly felt crummy for wanting to make her wait. Akihito had never seen her before, and he thought that he had seen everyone who lived on the floors below him. She looked, well…normal. Her dark black hair was pulled back away from her pointy face in bun, but it was starting to fall out. Her makeup was smudged, and she was wearing leggings. She looked nearly identical to Takato’s wife, and not like one of the rich wives dressed in Gucci. “Which floor?”

“Second from the top,”

Just below the penthouse. He thought that Asami had bought the entire floor for his favorite goons, so that they could be at his beck and call twenty-four-seven. The idea that the bastard missed out on a unit do to a normal person like him filled Akihito with unbridled glee. Enough for him to take the mother’s reusable bags. “Let me help you,” he grinned. He was exhausted, but not tired enough to risk her going into early labor. 

“Thanks,” she panted again. The woman winced and a hand fluttered to her round stomach. It rubbed soothing circles, and Akihito briefly wondered what it would be like to carry a bowling ball in his stomach. 

“You should make your husband help you,” he suggested as he shifted the bags onto his shoulders, careful not to jostle his camera. “Or you could have had them sent.”

“Cravings don’t wait for delivery boys,” his companion chuckled. “And my husband works late. He won’t be a home for a few hours,” a manicured hand tucked a fly away wisp behind her ear. 

“Mine, too,” Akihito answered mindlessly. He jumped when he realized what he had said. “I didn’t mean that! Oh, shit! I’m not married! Not married!” he sputtered. He his head no and waved his hands, his face a glowing shade of crimson. 

The woman laughed and grabbed his quivering hands. “It’s okay if you are,” she promised. When his mouth dropped and his face etiolated, she amended. “It’s fine if you’re not, too.”

“I don’t know what I said that!” Akihito rushed out. Oh God, why had he said that? He had to do some damage control, quick! If Asami ever found out that he said that, Akihito was sure that he would not be able to sit down for at least a year. Maybe ever again. 

“I know you’re not,” the woman giggled kindly. She withdrew her hand in order to shift the bag in her arms. 

The elevator door opened with a chime, making Akihito jump. He could barely get over her mortification enough to ask, “Do you need help getting all of this back to your apartment?”

“I should be fine,” the woman took only one of the proffered bags. “The other two are for you,” she explained when she saw his confused expression. “Asami-sama said that you were running out of the bare necessities, so I picked you up just enough to get you by.”

Wait. He watched her start to walk down the hall. She hummed to herself as her hips swayed, trying to accommodate her distended stomach. Asami told her…that meant that she spoke to the crimelord. “Do you work for the bastard?” he shouted down the hallway, stepping out of the metal cage. 

She looked over her shoulder in surprise. People always balked when he called his bastard of a lover out. “Occasionally,” she admitted. “If he needs an event coordinator.”

Fuck. Now Asami was sure to know about his Freudian slip. “You can’t tell him!” Akihito plead as the doors chimed, wanting to close but not being able to since his body disrupted their sensors. “It’s my ass on the line if you do!”

Her forehead creased at the wild frenzy in his eyes. “I won’t, Takaba-san,” she promised so earnestly that Akihito’s shoulders instantly sagged in relief. He stepped back into the elevator and the doors slid shut. Asami’s nameless drone waved goodbye before opening the door into her apartment. 

Phew. His secret was safe. Akihito would not have lasted long in criminal photography if he took everything at face value, but she seemed so honest. Asami said that Akihito couldn’t lie to save his life, and the photographer thought that she was the same way. Besides, pregnant women had better things to do than chat up Japan’s biggest yakuza. 

Lumbering into the apartment, Akihito quickly put up his impromptu groceries. Eggs, milk, curry powder, tofu, mirin, wakame…this was not the basics! Only an asshole would make a pregnant woman buy alcohol. And Dunhills! 

He answered his phone on the first ring, knowing full well who would be calling him. “You bastard,” he hissed.

Asami’s dark chuckled echoed in his ear, sending shivers down his spine. “Hello kitten,”

“I am not your kitten!” Akihito fired his mouth off before he thought about what he was saying, a habit he seemed keen to develop that night. “How dare you send that woman out to buy us groceries!”

Asami paused for just a moment. Akihito heard someone mumbling on the other end of the line and then Asami was speaking again. “Saho was going out anyway, kitten. She could handle brining you dinner,”

“I can cook for myself, you dickhead! I don’t need anyone to bring me a sushi sampler!” Though it did look scrumptious, he was going to stick to his morals on this one. He was a grown man, dammit. He could cook his own dinner.

“You are not going to eat ramen for the rest of the month, Akihito.” Asami warned coldly. “It’s not good for you––”

“Neither is this new carton of Dunhills,” he waved it in the air, a conductor to his invisible audience. “That doesn’t stop you!”

“Why do you have a carton of my cigarettes?” The last he checked, the photographer did not want to touch his so-called cancer sticks. 

“Because Toho––”

“Saho,” Asami corrected. 

“Saho bought them. Why does some leggy, pregnant lady know what brand of cigarettes you smoke? And why does she have your phone number?” He tried to sound angry. Really, he did. Logic said that Asami was not screwing anyone else behind his back, not with the way he plowed Akihito’s ass every night. And the photographer had never caught him flirting with a girl. Another guy, yes––but never a woman.

Then again…Saho was pregnant and Akihito had never seen her before. Was it Asami’s kid? He did seem determined that Akihito refer to her correctly. Anyone else, he would have let the Toho thing slide.

Asami sighed on the other end of the phone. “How much did she buy?” 

“Like three bags worth of shit!” Akihito remembered to be pissed. He was almost waylaid but the exasperation that laced his lover’s words. “We agreed that I buy the food around here, you jerk! I get to earn my keep! You can’t have a pregnant lady buy food anytime you decide you don’t like my diet!” 

That was just fighting dirty. There was no way he could get mad a pregnant lady. He would feel guilty instantly. 

“Kirishima wants to know what she looked like,” Asami pushed a button. “You’re on speaker phone now.”

“Huh?” he grunted. That was unexpected. 

“Physically, Akihito. How did she look?” Asami’s drawl was back, smug and infuriating. Akihito could see him lounging behind his desk as he smoked a Dunhill, smirking while Aki floundered on the other end of the line. “Kirishima wants to know.”

“She said she was married, Asami! I’m not going to help you perv on some married lady!” he protested. 

“I appreciate the sentiment, Takaba. It’s good to know that you are protecting my wife’s honor while I’m at work,” Kirishima interrupted the lovers’ banter. “But how was she? She knows she isn’t supposed to do any strenuous lifting.”

“Your wife?” Akihito repeated. No way…Saho was way too hot for Glasses! Maybe Suoh, the hulking behemoth he was. 

“Yes, kitten. Saho is married to Kirishima,” Asami said. “She’s the one who bought you all those new clothes,” he trailed off meaningfully.

“Oh shit,” Aki swore. He had come home last month to find that most of his old clothes had been thrown away. In their place was racks of designer clothes, fashionably weathered and faded to look like the ones he spent years wearing out. To complete his new wardrobe was a drawer of skimpy lingeries that were mesh and lace and silk. Asami had fucked him on every surface in the penthouse because of that damn drawer. To think that the sweet, smiling Saho had caused his ass to nearly split in two! 

“So you do remember.” Damn, he sounded so sexy when he was smug. Akihito’s cock stiffened a little bit just from that drawl. “You should have thanked her for your wardrobe makeover.”

“Shud–dup,” Akihito tried to growl but it came out more of a whimper. Come on, Takaba. Think calm, serene thoughts. Asami was trying to get him riled up. That meant that he was horny, and Akihito’s ass was going to pay the price. “She looked fine…”

“Kirishima left the room to call her,” Asami informed him. “So we are free to keep talking about how sexy your ass looks in that lacy blue thong that you like to wear.”

“I hate that thong and you know it!” His face was crimson again. He was at full mast now, and Asami knew it. It was seconds until the yakuza decide to skip the rest of his work in favor of coming home to a naked Akihito, waiting for him in bed. They both were getting horny. Thinking quick, Akihito knew his only chance at being able to get into the bath before Asami came home was to diffuse the building sexual tension. “Wh…why did you call me?”

The other end was silent. For a moment, Akihito thought that the line had disconnected for he did not even hear Asami breathing. Then he heard the evilest chuckle he could ever imagine, and it made his skin crawl. “I heard the most interesting confession, today.”

His stomach dropped to his knees. Fuck, no! “Wait! No! I didn’t mean it!”

“Fufufu, kitten. I didn’t know you considered us married. Such a good little pet, you’ve finally admitted who you belong to.” He could hear the triumphant smirk through the phone. 

“I don’t belong to anyone, you asshole!” he spat with as much venom as he could muster. Which was not very much. 

“Hiss all you want to, my kawaii Akihito. I’m on my way home now, and I intend to show you that you do belong to me.” Asami’s voice was full of heady promise, and Akihito’s body warmed. He couldn’t wait. 

But that did not mean that he would give his lover the satisfaction of surrendering so quickly. “You wish, you pervert! I’m eating dinner, and I’m going to bed! My ass is off limits tonight!”

Asami must have heard how weak his conviction was. “I don’t believe you for a moment. I’ll see you in a few minutes, kitten.”   
He disconnected the call. 

Akihito stood in the kitchen, pondering his next move. Asami would expect a fight from him. Aki loved to struggle, and Asami loved to give chase. They fit together perfectly, like puzzle pieces. But after his startling admission, the blonde did not feel like running. In fact, he wanted to surprise Asami even more, to take charge of the situation and make him lose his rigid self control. 

Oh yeah. He did not even try to stop the diabolical grin that erupted on his face. He must have looked like the Grinch planning on how to steal Christmas as he wrung his hands together. He had the perfect idea: sexy ambush.


	2. The Ambush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing. Trust me, canon would be much worse if I wrote it.

Chapter Two:

Kirishima was pissy.

It was a well-concealed vexation, masked by his usual stony countenance, but Asami could read the man clearly. They had spent years together, fought and killed side by side, and survived the mundane mountains of daily paperwork together. Asami knew how Kirishima thought, just his secretary knew how he thought. And right now, he could see the man pinch the bridge of his nose, glasses shoved halfway up his forehead as he spoke with his wife. It was a conversation that he had seen play out a hundred times before, and one that he had with Akithito frequently. 

Speaking of his little lover, the crime lord had promised that he would head home to reward that sweet confession. It had always been just a matter of time before Akihito would admit that there was more between them than just rutting, and Asami Ryuichi was a patient man. The confession came sooner than expected, and in the most unusual circumstances, so he was pleased that he had the foresight to install security cameras in his private elevator. 

It remained a mystery as to how Akihito was so obtuse that he did not realize that Kirishima Saho was in fact married Kirishima Kei. 

Grabbing his phone, the yakuza punched in Suoh’s number. “Get the car,” he ordered the security specialist. 

“Sir?” No doubt his man was checking the time to see if several hours had lapsed quickly. Asami rarely left work before midnight. 

“Now, Suoh. I’ve got some business to take care of at the penthouse,” he said briskly before snapping his phone shut. Suoh wouldn’t have responded anyway; he knew that business meant plowing Akihito’s ass all night. 

He made sure to click his briefcase open extra loud so that Kirishima could hear it from across the hall. The four-eyed man glanced up at his boss, who made a show of putting unfinished files and contracts into its leather confines. “I have to go,” Kirishima glanced across the hall. “A matter requires my attention.” The secretary paused, and Asami pretended he wasn’t listening, overtly straightening his files. “I love you, too. Kiss Yaya for me.”

The effortless banter between the couple still astounded him. Kirishima was so solemn-faced, rarely emoting. The man Saho knew was drastically different from the one who came to Sion every day. 

“Asami-sama,” said two-faced man quickly walked into his office. “What are you––”

“I have matters at home that I need to attend to,” he took his gun out form his desk drawer and slipped it into his holster. “Take the rest of the night off.”

Kirishima nodded. “If you’re certain, Asami-sama.” The secretary did not stay around to question his boss’s uncharacteristic graciousness. He disappeared into his office quickly, packing up his own things before escorting Asami to his car. It was a Friday night, and even criminals occasionally took a weekend off. 

“Kirishima,” Asami took a drag off his cigarette as they stood in the elevator. “Who is Yaya?” The last he had checked, which was about half an hour ago, the baby was still inside Saho. 

“Saho was getting lonely at night, so we adopted a cat,” Kirishima shrugged his shoulders. It was certainly a better solution than getting cuckolded by a stranger that he would have to kill. Brutally. 

A pet? Asami had never considered how Akihito felt at night, in the quiet space between his own investigations and Asami’s arrival. His boy seemed to be a social creature, preferring to always have someone around. Perhaps he would look into this pet idea further. 

*

Oh this was such a bad idea. Such a bad idea. Akihito knew that he would not be able to sit down for a week, but that did not stop him as he pulled the navy blue thong over his thin thighs, and snapped the elastic band against his jutting hips. The lacy rested against his sinewy curves, and the boy knew that his perverted crime lord would be all over him like white on bread. 

It usually only took one look at Akihito in anything remotely revealing to give the man a hard on, and here Akihito was just begging for it. Literally. But, in for a penny, in for a pound. If his ass was going to be split in two tonight, it was going to be memorable. Going to his lingerie drawer, Akihito tore through it like a mad man, tossing skimpy outfits right and left. They landed around him like a halo, fanning out in a splotchy rainbow. 

It took him a moment, but he found the outfit he was looking for, the one squirreled away to the bottom of his drawer before Asami had seen it. It was the only one that he had yet to fuck Akihito out of, because the photographer had been saving it for a special occasion. And tonight, the night that he took control from Asami, the night that he was going to prove his moxie and go toe to toe with Asami, was the night. 

If he was a good lover, Akihito would have planned this all out. There would have been mood lighting, sexy music, champagne, and a strip tease. But he wasn’t, and he hadn’t. Thinking fast, he turned off all the lights in the penthouse, and turned the shower on. 

For the piece-de-resistance, the photographer left a trail of his clothes from the living room to the bathroom. It was art: the casualty of it all. He could picture Asami coming home, still horny. He would follow the Akihito trail to the shower, thick fingers peeling away his own clothes in preparation to jump Akihito. Only, he would not find Aki. He laughed gleefully as he slipped into the closet and slid the door shut most of the way. Asami would never look for him there!

Minutes later, the front door clicked open. Akihito held his breath, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. Asami moved silently through the condo, purposefully so. He must have sensed the charged atmosphere, just like Akihito did. Time slowed until each second felt like a minute. 

Asami surely had made it to the living room by now. He would see the photographer’s laptop, still glowing from recently activity and photos on the screen, just waiting to be edited. The breadcrumb trail would be easy to spot. He tried to make it look languid and accidental, like he stripped on a whim on the way to the shower. Asami would follow it, tense like a panther, until he came to the bathroom. 

The floorboard creaked. Aki froze, and apparently Asami did too. He made sure that the Akihito in the shower did not hear him before continuing on. Akihito watched his silhouette as he gracefully stepped out of his pants only to fold them and toss them on the settee. 

*

He was little more than a shadow as he slunk into the bathroom, careful to ease the door open. He really needed to get those hinges oiled. The steam coiled int the tiled room, indolently wafting around his knees. There were more clothes on the plush rug, but the shower was empty. No Akihito in sight. 

So that’s the game his kitten wanted to play.

Turning the shower head off, Asami chuckled at the photographer’s ingenuity. He should have known that Akihito would play hard to get after their conversation. The tornadic mess that was Akihito felt preordained, and not just his usual chaos. The mischievous boy would not pass up an opportunity to gloat as Asami floundered. 

A shadow flickered in the corner of his eye, and he saw the faintest shimmer of blue before darkness flooded the room. The specter vanished as suddenly as it appeared, but sami could hear the light tapping of his bare feet. Akihito wanted to be chased. 

The crime lord leisurely strolled out of the bathroom, reveling in the way the cool air kissed his skin. There was nothing that Asami loved more than feeling the heat of his photographer undulating beneath him as the cold air feathered across his back. Asami was not a religious man, but that surely was what heaven felt like. 

“Here, kitty kitty kitty,” he called into the semidarkness. The blinds were open, bathing the room in sterile silver, but he saw the one thing that had first escaped his notice: the closet door was open. Silly kitten, so naive to hide there twice. What was the old adage? Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice…

Shame on you, Akihito. He had only taken one step when a heat pressed against his back. It was soft, familiar, supple and it took every ounce of control he possessed not to lash out. He painstakingly relaxed his muscles, whispering to himself that it was his Akihito’s arms wrapping beneath his arms to cup his chest, and not an assassin. Akihito nuzzled his back. 

“Gotcha,” the kitten purred. 

“You certainly did,” the yakuza agreed, his hands unclenching so slowly that his knuckles creaked. They instantly contorted again when cold metal clicked against his left wrist. “Akihito––”

“Sshh,” Akihito’s kissed tickled the skin between his shoulders. “I’ve got a surprise for my hard working husband.”

Husband…Asami groaned low in the back of his throat. Blood was quickly pooling in his gut, churning relentlessly at that confession. Twice in one night; Asami wasn’t sure he could handle hearing it a third time. The thought of Akihito’s complete submission, of him willingly surrendering and belonging to the older man had him teetering on the edge, a hair’s breadth away from coming, untouched. 

Still, he could not encourage such behavior. It was dangerous for him to be vulnerable, even in his own home. Enemies could attack at any moment, and he needed to be ready. To defend his husband. 

“Trust me, Asami,” the photographer nipped at his back, somehow sensing his thoughts. “I’m letting go on your hands, now. Don’t move, ‘kay?” 

He didn’t wait for Asami to answer. The boy’s trust in him was infallible, and Asami felt the skinny arms drag across his sides until their heat left him alone. Fuck, he loved that heat. He was not surprised when a thin silk strap slid over his eyes. It was the tie that Akihito had given him for Christmas last year. The boy cinched it behind his head, careful not to knot his hair in the process. Love was in the details, he thought as Akihito trailed his fingers down the crime lord’s arm before interlocking their hands. “I’m going to lead you to the bed,” he pressed a kiss to his bicep. 

“Akihito,” Asami thought his voice sounded rougher than usual. “What’s going on?” He didn’t want to clear his throat and alert his Akihito to its sudden dryness. 

“You’ve been working so hard this past week,” Akihito nudged him until he sat on the bed. His back was propped up by several pillows, and though he was comfortable, he tensed as the journalist lifted his right wrist, chaining him to his headboard. “I thought that you might like to unwind.” The pulsating heat pulled away, and Asami heard him walk across the room. A soft, pulsing beat reverberated in the surround sound, wordless but familiar. “Consider this your sexy ambush,” 

The bed shifted as Akihito crawled over him and reached for the blindfold. Any blood near his brain, any thought he might have had, any protest at his lips…it all fled when he caught sight of his boy, straddling him. Akihito grinned smugly, pleased at Asami’s wide eyed, wild stare. He knew he looked good. 

Asami’s favorite navy thong was glued to his hips like a second skin, the delicate lace cresting over his throbbing erection. It had a wider band, about an inch thick. The crime lord loved to stroke the lace, following it over his lover’s hips to his round bottom, where it crowned those creamy globes like a halo before disappearing into hid dark cleft. Asami had seen his kitten in the thong a dozen times, each more arousing than the previous. It was a sight forever ingrained in his memory. It was also the screen saver on his phone. 

But he had never seen the matching lace teddy that the boy was currently wearing. It was the same thin lace. It traveled down each shoulder in two delicate strips. Each strap skirted around Akihito’s nipples, the friction causing them to stay constantly erect. The dark navy contrasted with the rosy pink in a breathtaking way. The bands were wrapped around gold rings, wide enough for restraints to be gently leashed through. The teddy exposed most of his chest, but blanketed his stomach in an ocean of passementerie. The waves parted just before his cock, leaving it easily accessible should Akihito choose to forgo the thong. 

There was also a matching collar over Akihito’s throat, the two ends tied around another gold ring. Perfect for a leash or a muzzle. 

“Naughty kitten,” Asami’s cock pushed against Akihito’s thigh, straining in excitement. He had not been this excited in a long time. And here he thought they had explored the full contents of Aki’s lingerie drawer. “You’ve been hiding this one from me.”

Hazel eyes glinted wickedly. “I was saving it for a special occasion,” he rolled his hips forward. The soft lace scratched at Asami’s weeping cock, stimulating the already painful organ. Thankfully, he controlled his body enough to not buck into the boy, but he did flinch. Akihito must have felt it, because he kept rolling his hips as he spoke. “And I think tonight’s sexy surprise fits the bill.”

Asami tugged on the handcuffs. They were the ones he used on the photographer last week, nothing that he could not break. He wanted to see just what Akihito had planned, though he had a pretty good idea what was coming next. There was no way in hell he would stop the reporter now. 

“You can’t break those,” the photographer chuckled in the crook of Asami’s neck, still underestimating Asami after all this time. Silly kitten, but so sweet. “Sit back. Relax. Enjoy the show.”

Akihito rose up on his knees. Pointy hips languorously swayed in circles, never thrusting too fast or too hard. He stayed just centimeters away from Asami as he rocked to the music, chest and body moving disjointedly and so sybaritically. He called on his years of dancing in Tokyo’s nightclubs to keep his movements sensual, slow. 

Hips pitching to the same rhythm that Asami fucked him with, his hands trailed down his chest to tweak his nipples. Akihito gently opened one eye to peak at his lover. Gold eyes stared at his chest like a starving man at a sumptuous feast. Aki teased one nipple, than the other, flicking them and then rubbing soft circles to soothe the pleasant ache. Asami licked his lips, and pulled on the handcuffs. “Uncuff me,” the crime lord demanded. 

Shaking his head, Akihito kissed the man’s nose before lowering onto his hips. Grinding down hard, Akihito moaned headily. Asami’s hips jerked underneath him when Akihito played with the ring on his collar. Still rocking against him. Always pushing and pulling at their unflagging erections. 

“You always mark me, you know.” Akihito nipped lightly at his neck. “I wonder what you would do if I marked you?”

He bit hard, gripping and pulling the pale flesh between his teeth. “Akihito,” Asami moaned. His head tilted, allowing the photographer to suck even harder. 

“You like that, don’t you?” Hot breath blew on the shell of his hear. “You like to belong to me, the way I belong to you.”

Asami’s cock throbbed again. It danced in time with Akihito’s hips, begging for attention. The photographer seemed to think it was time for both of their cocks to get some attention because small hands fluttered to Asami’s thick organ. Akihito gave a few sharp tugs, contrasting vividly with the tender thrusts of his hips. Asami let himself fall into the pillows as he watched his kitten move through hooded eyes.

Akihito pressed Asami’s erection against his covered one, and started to hump it. The heat of Akihito’s cock mixed with the smooth lace that tickled at his cock. Asami growled lowly, but it was lost in Akihito’s loud mewls. His lover was chanting his name lowly, as if it was Asami that caused this epicurean torture. 

Hazel eyes met gold. The fire that burned in Asami’s gaze set his blood on fire. Akihito came with a startled cry, exploding in his pretty little thong. He collapsed on Asami’s chest, face tomato red as his mortification set in. He had just come in his underwear! He was supposed to be stripping Asami, teasing him and making him loose control. All it took was one look from the criminal and Akihito had literally come in his pants. 

“Akihito,” Asami bucked his hips upward. The small man jostled upright and the crime lord caught him in a scorching kiss. Aki pulled away panting, but Asami smirked and thrust up again. “Keep going, Akihito.”

Arms shaking, Akihito pushed himself off Asami’s chest. Quivering legs tried to find the rhythm again as he hooked his fingers in his thong. Eyes locked on Asami’s shallow breathing, Akihito was grateful that he was not the only one affected by this. He shimmied out of his underwear. Cum dripped off his cock––which was already hard again, and between his legs. It was hot on Asami’s already burning skin. 

Aki threw the panties over his shoulder, not really caring wear they ended up. Rock hard again, he ran his hands up and down his chest. “Oh God, Asami…” he panted. 

His crime lord’s body was taught, coiled like a spring. Any moment it looked like he would snap, and Akihito was determined to keep going until that happened. He wanted Asami-fucking-Ryuichi to lose it, to get lost in them and in this fuck. This torrid love affair that blistered his skin had to be mutual. 

Turning around, Akihito humped the air in front of him. He could feel Asami’s eyes stabbing at his ass. If a gaze could poke and pull and squeeze, his would. Fingers swirling around his cock, Akihito made sure that they were covered with the thick spunk before he leaned forward. Cheek on the bed, Akihito used one hand to spread his ass wide open while the other danced around his rosebud. Asami could see every last detail in the silvery moon as his fingers dipped into his ass, stroking it and scissoring it in sync with the music. 

When Aki’s third fingers stretched himself open wide, he bucked back and shouted at the top of his lungs. “Asami!” 

He heard the sound of metal snapping, but did not process it until Asami’s legs jerked from underneath him, sending his body into the air. Heavy hands grabbed his thighs, holding his ass in the air and leaving his body supported by his face. But Aki did not care because Asami drove into him with such force his brain rattled. 

The stretch was painful, unbearable and so good that he was going to come at any moment. Asami set a brutal pace, pistoning in and out of him. Akihito screamed as his legs flailed. Fingers clutched at the bedsheets, looking for any leverage. Asami’s grip was bruising as he pulled Akihito back while simultaneously thrusting into him. All the photographer could do was hold on for the ride. 

“This is what happens when you tease me, kitten.” Asami growled as he struck Akihito’s prostate over and over again. “Good kitten. Such a good Akihito,” he bit the boy’s back hard. 

Akihito screamed and thick ropes of come shot from his dick. But Asami kept going, pounding into him until he was crying. Screaming. Praying. Begging for it to stop, and then for it to never stop. “Let me hear your voice,” Asami snarled when Akihito’s ass clamped down particularly hard on him. “I want to hear you come again,”

When he came for the third time, Akihito screamed his name so loudly that everyone in Tokyo must have heard it. “AAAASSSSAAAMMMMMIIIIIIIIIIII!”

“Oh fuck…Akihito!” Asami’s own utterance was quiet, gasping as he shot into his lover. His legs gave out and Asami fell backwards onto the bed, completely spent. He usually could go for several rounds with his boy, but the emotion coupled with the sex had drained him. His boy, his beautiful, wonderful and perfect lover collapsed beside him, ass still in the air. He was drooling. This was the man that dared consider himself Asami Ryuichi’s husband. It perturbed the crime lord that Akihito only considered himself Asami’s husband, his life-partner, his lover. There was not another person in the world that Asami would want by his side forever, and the very notion that Akihito might not be physically hurt him. 

“Asami,” Akihito whispered as the yakuza pulled the boy into his arms. He lay, tucked beside him and locked into place by strong arms. “That was incredible,” he kicked a leg over Asami. 

Cuddling. Asami Ryuichi was cuddling with another human being. A year ago, it would have been preposterous. Now, it was how he preferred to spend his nights after rigorous exercise. “Good husbands deserve rewards,” he said as he kissed the photographer’s forehead. 

“You’re a good husband, Asami,” was Akihito’s sleepy reply. Already, he was drifting off into la-la land. 

“You seem fixated on the idea of marriage,” Asami mused out loud. There was no way Akihito was coherent enough to understand him, but he had called Asami his husband several times. That mean Aki was open to a marriage, to their marriage. “It’s a good thing that Japan’s best event coordinator lives below us. We have a ceremony to plan.”

“Whatever you say, bastard…” Akihito’s breath evened out as he fell asleep. Asami grinned into the darkness. The boy would regret his easy acceptance come morning, but that did not matter. Asami already had his answer. They were getting married.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I think I'm going to do a sequel to this one. But as a long fic, and not just a drabble or a one/two shot. I haven't seen a full-fledged story about a wedding yet haha. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, given kudos and bookmarked. It means the world to me! I love you, all!

**Author's Note:**

> I have written fan fiction for several different fandoms, but this is my first for Viewfinder. I have no idea if it's any good. There really was not a plot to this fic; it was just a drabble to get my feet wet in the fandom. 
> 
> I'm open to writing a lemon for the second chapter, but have no concrete plans. Hope you all enjoyed it! There


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